A Little Red Dress
by MattieCanada1
Summary: Arthur calls Yao to ask a favor, but it's more than it seems.
1. The Invitation

Yao Wang sighed, sitting on the front steps of his porch, legs crossed under neath him, small green tea cup warming his hands as he closed his eyes softly. The leaves rustled as a cold breeze whooshed by, cold winds nipping at Yao's cheeks. There was a faint ringing noise, and Yao sighed, getting up. Gently sliding the doors, he slowly walked into the kitchen, picking up the phone that was ringing on his countertop.

"Ni hao, aru." He leaned back, elbows stuck out behind him on the counter, ankles crossed. He expected Ivan to creepily laugh, in which he would automatically hand up, not wanting to do anything with that creep; or ImYong Soo to yell out "Aniki~", which would lead to another receiver slamming; possibly even for Leon to politely go "Ni hao" back, as Yao had properly taught him.

"God, you can't say 'Hello' properly?" The voice growled from the other end.

"A-Arthur, aru?" He blinked in surprised, stepping away from the counter.

"Who else would it be? Stupid Asian." That last part was said under his breath, but Yao still heard. He just bit his tongue; the last war hadn't been easy, and he was glad to have Hong Kong back, and we was partially interested as to hear what Arthur had to say.

"What do you want aru?" He asked calmly, after clearing his throat.

"I have a favor to ask of you." Yao paused.

"No." Arthur started to say something about how he didn't bloody know what he was going to ask, when the Chinese man interrupted him. "You can't have Hong Kong back, aru."

"I wasn't going to ask that, you git!" He replied angrily. "Though it _would_ be nice if he came to visit... nevertheless, are you free this Friday night?" Yao pondered as to hang up now, or actually go check if he was available, twirling a strand of loose hair as he did so.

"You hung up, didn't you?" The Englishman presumed at the silence. "Of course, I should've expected as much..." That was followed by some words I wish not to repeat, and words Yao was sick of hearing.

"I am still here, aru, and I'd appreciate an apology." He stated, releasing his hair and letting it fall lifelessly down onto his shoulder, blending in with the rest of his dark hair.

"Ah, my bad." He was awfully monotone. He most likely wasn't sorry at all.

"Anyway, aru, why, may I ask, are you wanting to know if I am free this Friday?" There was a pause on the other end of the receiver, and for a second he assumed Arthur had hung up.

"Answer my question first."

"I don't have time for these childish games, aru!" He snapped.

"The thing is..." He sighed, and there was a slurping noise as the Brit calmly took a sip of his tea. "My boss decided to throw a little party- he's getting married, you see- and I was invited. It's rude to say no, and it seemed very ungentlemanly to come without a guest. Francis is just a perverted frog who'll most likely hit on the bride-to-be; Alfred's way too immature and will most likely screw things over somehow; and I don't dare ask Ivan." Another sigh, followed by another sip. "You're my last resort." Yao cleared his throat softly, before awkwardly shifting, thought Arthur couldn't seem him.

"I'm partially flattered, aru, and a little offended." With a smooth motion, the slender man slid himself up onto the granite counter top, folding his legs underneath his for a more comfortable position. "You would like me to be your... date, aru?"

"N-Not like that!" Instead of the normal boring monotone voice his usually used, Arthur sounded genuinely embarrassed, as well as flustered. He so wanted to point that out and make fun of the other man, but Yao was more mature than that, and he was too old for fights. He bit his tongue once more. "I just meant..." On the other line, Arthur tried to thing of another word to use instead of 'date', but that's all he could come up with.

"Companion!" He blurted as it crossed his mind. "Y-Yes, I just need a _companion_ to accompany me to this ball."

"Won't that seem a little odd, aru? For a man to come to an engagement party with another man, both of which are straight? Unless you've finally come out of the closet of your stupid magic tricks and make-believe friends, aru..." Screw holding his tongue, Yao just let this one slip, regretting nothing. In fact, he smirked rather devilishly, awaiting for the younger man's reply.

A long, awkward pause filled the air, and Yao was almost certain he had hung up. With a light shrug, he removed the phone from the spot it was gently cradled between his jaw bone and his shoulder, about to lock it back into the phone holder, when...

"Sh-Shut up, will you?" A light chuckled escaped the Chinese man's mouth at the pathetic come back.

"Where's this gala, aru?"

"You mean you'll come?"

"I never said that, I just asked you where it's taking place, aru."

Arthur told him the address, and once again Yao pondered actually going.

"I'll pick you up at 7 pm sharp Friday night. Wear something nice." Arthur shifted, as if standing up to hang up and end their conversation.

"I never said yes, aru!" Yao remarked, a little flustered.

"And you never said no." Another shuffle, and a click, followed by dead silence.

Yao Wang set the phone back, sliding off the counter top and making his way out of the kitchen, through his living room and up with winding stairs, green tea cup forgotten.

"It's a date, aru." He muttered under his breath, a slight blush reddening his cheeks and he made his way up the stairs to prepare for Friday's event.


	2. The Gala

At 6:58 pm on Friday night, a quick and sharp knocking rang throughout the house. Yao rushed down the stairs, swearing in his native tongue. He paused before the door, tugging on the hem of his suit, straightening it out, and opened the door.

Arthur stood, glaring down at his feet. No, more like between his feet, a sickening look as he stared the the welcome mat that sat in front of the door step.

"Really." He ignored Yao and continued stare down at the mat. The Chinese man had to clear his throat in order to get the Brit's attention, in which it was just a quick glance upward and a silent nod, before he got fixated back on the welcoming mad.

"Tsk." Yao clicked his tongue and spun on his heel, halfway up the stairs when Arthur called out.

"Oi, come back here, I need to get a good look at you." Reluctantly, he turned around and came back to face the younger man. "No no no, this won't do." He unbuttoned the two shiny black buttons that held the coat of his suit together and reached into what seemed like an endless pocket, pulling out a simple cream colored box, tied off with a red ribbon. He then handed it to Yao, who took it, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"Change, and make it snappy. I do not wish to be late." With that he turned on his heel, strolling back to the car, his open jacket flapping behind him. He gave one last evil glare at the welcome mat before leaving, however.

Yao softly closed the door, brown eyes never leaving the sight of the box. What was in it? Why had Arthur brought it? Was it a suit? Did he know he didn't have anything proper to wear, so he bought one himself? It was probably something tacky, knowing that English bastard.

With one graceful pull, the ribbon came undone as the skinny man leaned against his bedroom door, now closed. His hand hesitated, hovering over the box, and it pulled it open.

Yao hoped Arthur could hear his screams from inside the warmth of his car.

He stared at himself for a rather long time in the mirror. His face was pale, unblemished, yet smooth and silky. His hair was long and thin, a little curly but soft to the touch, and it was pulled back in a loose yet professional looking ponytail, held together by a simple rubber band. He was wearing his best non-traditional thing he own; a very simple white suit, along with a white button-down underneath, a black tie and a little scuffed brown shoes. He knew Arthur would be mad if we wore something that screamed about his Nationality, especially at such an important gala.

The little 'gift' Arthur had given Yao, however, was indeed a new outfit. A rather nice one at that.

A little red dress, nonetheless.

An angry car horn honking meant Yao was taking too long of a time, and that they had to get going. He had told Arthur he was going, and he was ordered to wear this, and Yao wasn't a man to go back on his promises, despite how embarrassing they were.

"I bet this was a dare, aru." He hissed under his breath and he stripped slowly, face flushed with anger. "Lousy bastard..." He finished undressing and began redressing, slowly slipping the dress on, hating every second of it.

The dress was a little past knee-length, and it had a large slit up the left side, going up to the base of his hip. It had only one strap, which was tied off with a bow on the right shoulder. It was soft, rather silky. He felt almost normal in it; like wearing a bathrobe. Though the uncomfortable draft on his left made it worse.

In the box Arthur had also included a pair of strappy black heels, which Yao was pleased to find fit him quite well. He was glad he had shaved his legs; he always wanted to look his best, and leg hair (or any other body hair besides the ones his scalp) were not very attractive.

He was actually pulling his hair back into a ponytail when the car horn blared again for a long, repeated and obnoxious blast, then a car door slammed and Arthur knocked loudly on the door. Yao's hands were tangled in his hair, a brush in his mouth, and he didn't even have time to reply when Arthur stormed inside and bursted through his bedroom door.

Something changed in his eyes when he saw Yao. It was very light, but the Chinese man saw it. The anger had vanished, and surprise filled his wide, green eyes, as well as a devilishly smirk coming across his face. Only for a second, however. As soon as it was there it was gone, and an angry expression returned.

"You're making us late." He grabbed the other man's wrist, and flicked off the lights in his bedroom, pulling him down the stairs.

"Wait!" Yao tugged his arm free and Arthur froze in the middle of the foyer, staring at him wildly. Yao strode over to the coat closet that sat innocently next to the front door, pulling out a sleek black leather jacket, slipping it on, adjusting his shoes and turning off the front lights, stepping outside his door and motioning for Arthur to come out as well. He did, and Yao shut the door, stepping over the welcoming mat, struggling not to trip in his heels.

The blonde held the door open for the Asian as he slipped in the backseat, and Arthur gave one last look at the mat before sliding in himself.

The burnt Union Jack that Yao had set fire to after Hong Kong had left him lay in place of where his real welcoming mat should be, the one that simply read 'Ni Hao'. The flag was in place just to piss Arthur off; and it seemed to be working rather well.**  
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They sat in the back of the limousine in this awkward, unspoken silence. Yao stared at his feet, twirling a piece of his hair around his slender fingers for most of the time, Arthur just fumbled with his hands when he wasn't staring out the window. About 20 minutes in, Arthur reached back into his endless pockets, and produced a hairbrush.

"Turn around." He commanded to Yao, who unbuckled himself in order to do so. Arthur removed the rubber band that held his hair up, and Yao couldn't help but wince lightly. He began to brush the asian's silky dark brown hair with care, humming gently.

"Thanks for the dress, aru." Yao broke the silence, voice very boring and plain.

"Thanks for wearing it." Yao felt Arthur's fingertips along his neck and he brushed his fingers through the long hair, making sure he hadn't missed any knots.

"Thanks for..." He let his voice trail off and he held his hands to his chest, patting lightly. Arthur nodded a silent agreement.

Arthur had spared him the embarrassment and bought a dress with cups, so he looked more feminine.

"I took what you said seriously." He explained, still brushing his hair though there had been no knots. "It _would_ seem rather odd for two straight men to come together. And I thought it would be even more odd for two straight men, one of which would be cross dressing." He was implying his little 'gift' for Yao. "So, you are my Chinese girlfriend who doesn't speak English. You only nod, smile, and say thank you, got it?" Sure, it was demanding and ruined what was left of his dignity and pride. But there was free alcohol, and he could get drunk off his ass, and no one he knew was there to judge him, because we was just simply a foreigner. This was also a good excuse to swear at people in Chinese. Oh, the fun he would have.

Arthur fumbled around, pulling Yao's hair back with his hand, letting it fall, pulling it into pigtails, letting it fall, and so on with a bun, two buns, a French twist... until he finally decided to keep it down, brushing through it one last time. Yao finally got to turn around, getting a view of his 'date'.

Arthur wore a rather attractive black suit, with a red tie...

The same color as his dress, and as the ribbon on the box.

How he hated this man at moments.**  
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**A/N: Okay, I hate to interrupt in the middle of the story, but it seemed the only appropriate place to do this. If you didn't really catch it earlier, China put a burnt Union Jack as a welcome mat, as a sign of disrespect (Burnt flag, and it's on the ground, let alone being stepped upon). And Yao's dress looks like this: ****http:/ KayaSushi . deviantart . com /art/Arthur-Loves-Yao-Heart-251617040 (Take out the spaces!)**

**This is an old story from an old account, but I had issues with that account, so I'm rewriting this story. But from my old account, this amazing girl (Kaya'sWindow on FF, KayaSushi on DA) drew me a fanart of one of the scenes. So... yeah. ^^;; Back to the story!**

As soon as the limo pulled up to this grand building, people were all over Arthur, as if he was the groom-to-be. It annoyed Yao, especially how they all wanted to talk to him, despite the fact that "she can't speak English". He wanted to spit on the people who tried to speak very slowly, as if that helped a foreigner at all. A couple of people knew Chinese, and started to strike up a conversation, and Yao would panic.

Arthur, however, would step in a say how "She's very shy with new people".

How he hated that man.

At _moments_.

At one point he was sitting next to Arthur on a bench as English people rambled about politics and whatnot all around him, and he found himself twirling his hair once more. It had become a bad habit of his, but it seems appropriate. Arthur laughed at something the stout man in front of them said, and stretched his arm behind Yao's back. He moved lightly, as if he was in the way of the Brit's hand. The hand remained, and the conversation continued, Yao sipping lightly at the hot cup of tea he was handed. Another chuckle from the group, and Arthur's hand placed itself on Yao's side, finger curling below his ribcage. As the conversation led to the engagement and all the preparations, the hand slipped lower and lower, until it settled just above the slit. Swearing under his breath in Chinese, Yao shifted a little uncomfortably, light blush spreading across his cheeks. Arthur's hand remained. In fact, it lowered when the brunette shifted in his grasp, his now his fingers just lingered off the slit, thumb rubbing in small circles on his hip.

Arthur nonchalantly took a sip of his tea, as if nothing was wrong at all. Yao wanted to excuse himself, but seeing as all he could do was smile, nod, and say thank you- neither of which seemed appropriate in this situation- he just shifted again, hoping Arthur caught his uncomfortableness.

He didn't. If anything, he took it the wrong way, and this thumb slowly eased itself _under_ the slit, rubbing small circles on his own skin. Yao practically jumped and the touch of the other man's skin against his own. Not knowing what else to do, Yao tipped his cup of tea lightly, so the hot liquid dipped on the blonde's flesh.

His hand released and he swore, shaking his hand off, hitting Yao's arm and spilling the rest of the tea, most of which ending on Yao's thigh- on the bare part of his skin that the slit showed.

Still swearing, Arthur grabbed some napkins and pressed two to his wrists, a fistful he pressed against Yao's leg. With him touching him again, Yao felt like pouring more tea on the blonde's stupid head, singeing those caterpillars he called eyebrows right off.

Thanks to the help of some servants, they got cleaned up, and that stout man slapped Arthur across the back, laughing heartily.

"Such a klutz, Kirkland! Such a klutz." He walked away, shaking his head and still chuckling. Arthur shot Yao a look, and Yao glared back. They sat back down, Arthur's hands now to himself. A pretty blonde servant came around and offered him more tea, but Yao shook his head no, and was instead handed a glass of wine, expensive wine, like ones he had been offered all night.

He would take a glass, drink it, and as soon as it was emptied, a new one was filled and handed to him.

He was beginning to realize that he'd possibly had more than one too many around the same time Arthur noticed. Arthur excused himself and grabbed Yao's hand, pulling him over by the far wall.

"Hey." He said, rather calmly. "Are you okay?"

"I _hic!_ th-think so, aru..." He slurred, leaning against the wall and sliding down, dress riding. Arthur blushed deeply and pulled the Chinese man up, looking around before he tugged his dress down.

"You're drunk." The Brit reported. Yao shot him the best evil glare he could in his drunken state.

"And you're sexy, aru. Since were just _hic! _bein' honest..." His head rolled as he stumbled forward, falling into Arthur's arms.

"We're going home." Grabbing hold of the asian's wrist again, he started to head towards to door when Yao pulled him back.

"But why, aru?" His brown eyes were hazy, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

"Because..." Without a good excuse, Arthur snuck one of the shot glasses that a servant was carrying on a silver platter, downing it quickly. "Bloody Hell." He said as it kicked in. He and Yao shared a smiled, and he waved the servant down, asking for more shots.

The Chinese man was far too drunk to even care about that the people around him were saying. He wasn't paying attention in the first place, and it's not like they cared about him, either. He was too drunk to remember who grabbed his hand, who shoved him up against the wall, who started kissing him, who stuck their hand up his dress, why he wasn't even wearing a dress, or why it was quickly taken off- Hell, he could barely remember his own name. Even when the other person moaned it aloud several times. All he remembered was the soft hair that tickled him under his chin while the other person sucked his neck, and bright green eyes.


	3. The Morning After

The next morning, Yao was almost afraid of waking up.

He was afraid of waking up, curled up in an empty bed in a sleazy motel room, alone and used.

He curled up into a ball against the sheets, feeling a little calmer at the touch his own skin. He kept his eyes closed, for when he opened then all he expected was to see peeling wallpaper, and clothes strewn across the room. Only his clothing, of course. His partner for the night would've already showered and fled. As usual.

Instead of the smell of urine and tobacco, cherry blossoms and green tea filled the air, along with the faint smell of cologne. He sat up and opened his eyes. He was in his own bedroom, sunlight seeping in the room through the Japanese Maple branches of the tree that grew just outside his bedroom, birds chirping happily as they do everyday. All of his clothes were folded neatly on the chair that was pushed into his desk, the red dress draped over the back. He blinked, and a pounding in his head started like an engine roar. He groaned, and reached over to his bedside table where he kept a bottle of Advil. His long fingers dipped into warm liquid, and he screamed, sitting up. A green tea cup, pills, and a notecard sat on a small red-and-white platter.

The Chinese man picked up the cup, smelling it gingerly and taking a long, relaxing sip, then another, the second time accompanied by the medicine. He picked up the card and read aloud.

_Dear Yao,  
><em>_Thank you for one of the best nights I've had in a while. I really needed to let my tie loose. I'm sorry I had to leave; I had meetings I had to attend this morning. Sorry for the hangover, but you drank like no other. You can keep the dress, though I thing it might've ripped when I took it off... I forgot there was a zipper along the back. Nonetheless, thank you again, and don't worry, I didn't steal Leon again. Though I did leave you a little gift._

_Sincerely,_  
><em>Arthur.<em>

Yao stared at the note in disbelieve. The whole thing had been in perfect Chinese. Simplified Chinese, yes, but still. His eyes softened at the thought that went into that letter. He smiled and set the note down, noticing there was more writing on the back.

_P.S., did you know you moan out in Chinese?_

Yao could see Arthur smirking as he wrote that last part. With a little sigh, he set it down and stood up, dressing and walking through his house, out the front door to get his mail. He stepped over the mat, and paused. There no longer was a Union Flag on the ground, burnt or otherwise. The simple 'Ni Hao' bamboo mat sat there, creamy tan colors standing out against the grey of the cement. On the walls next to his front door, however, hung two flags; a Union Flag on the right, and a Chinese flag on the left. Yao flushed before tearing them both down, storming inside, mail be damned. He didn't feel like pronouncing his love for the English man for everyone to see.

He looked at the colorful flags scrunched in his hands, and smoothed it against the wall in his foyer, pausing once more, and hanging it up there. "Xie xie." He said silently, kissing the British flag gingerly, and continued on with his daily chores, smiling every time he caught glance of the flag, sitting proudly and shamelessly.

**A/N: Hello~**

**I wrote Leon, though I believe his real name is Li Xiao or something... all I know is Leon, and it's really cute. ^^**

**Though I know the first chapter I wrote 'Hong Kong', which is weird, considering I never called Arthur 'England', or Yao 'China'. Oh, well. I need to go fix that later.**

**It says 'Union Flag' because once I said 'Union Jack', and my friend told me it's only called that when it's sailing. Otherwise it's just the Union Flag. I need to go change that as well...**

**Besides my own little mess ups, how'd you like it?**

**I had a lot of fun writing it, even the second time. Feedback would be lovely, thanks~ ^^**

**I apologize; I forgot to add that the story was over, so pardon me if you thought otherwise. But yes; the story is finished. I hope you liked it! I will be writing more, with other pairings and whatnot. ^^)~**

**Oh, and I have a poll on my profile. It would be uber amazing if you checked it out, thanks~**

**~MattieCanada1**


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